


Fast Times at Les Mis High

by Curvynpervy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Gen, High School Drama, It's literal chaos, M/M, Multi, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:47:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1728293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curvynpervy/pseuds/Curvynpervy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta all met in high school, and were fast friends. Not so fast boyfriends and girlfriend. Instead they waste time setting their friends up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who the hell are these people?

They all met in high school, on the same day at the same time. Before that moment when their lives braided together, they all had completely separate ones.

Musichetta, for example, was the daughter of two cultural researchers and conservationists. She usually explained it simply as “They like to keep places and the history of those places in tact.” Being that as it was, they moved around a lot, and Musichetta learned how to make new friends quickly- even with a language barrier. With their daughter entering high school, her parents decided she should go through the normal process. Although she did manage to delay the move, she couldn’t stop it, and entered her sophomore year.

Bossuet had gone through several schools, each one finally admitting that they were unable to sustain anymore of his accidents. They were all accidents, of course. He hadn’t meant to walk through a bush of catnip. He also hadn’t meant to lead an army of cats into the school. His lab projects were all disasters, but there was never any serious damage to anyone but himself, mainly just his hair- which he’d shaved off for fear of further damage to himself and others. None of these things were intended to happen, but they ended up happening anyway. Which lead him to a whole new town, where he’d promised his moms that he wouldn’t have anymore accidents. But truly, it couldn’t be helped.

Joly was the only one who had been in the same town his whole life. He’d used to love the mud and playing with bugs as a kid. Then he got rather sick from something unrelated to the bugs and mud. When he first heard of his disease he was fascinated by the way the body worked and how diseases affect it. Then he started reading. “Reads far too much for a 7 year old” his parents would say, but he was still allowed all the books he wanted no matter what subject. It was that intense knowledge of various diseases that started his hypochondria. He began cleaning and growing away from others, fearful of what sicknesses he could get. His parents tried their best, offering kind words, helping him through his paranoia, doing what he asked when he demanded something be cleaned, but they found that there was just something missing to help him with his fear.

These three lives connected one day, in the middle of the hallway, Musichetta having difficulty navigating the long hallways of the school, even with her map that her eyes were glued to. Bossuet looking everywhere but straight ahead to avoid any potential accident. And Joly fixated on an odd mark on his hand- that in truth had just come from gripping his books so tight. These three who weren’t looking where they were going inevitably bumped into each other and knocked themselves on their asses. Musichetta apologizing, sounding more annoyed than sorry as she helped the others pick up their books and searched frantically for her map. Bossuet gave out sincere apologies and cursed himself for not going longer without an accident. And Joly grabbed for his books and the antibacterial wipes he kept in his pocket, spluttering a few quick ‘sorry’s before asking them not to touch his books.

They followed their own mess trails to the middle of the T intersection, looking up at each other simultaneously. For a period of time, a much longer period than whats considered normal, they sat looking at each other, a bit bewildered but also feeling something entirely different at the sight of each other.

Eventually the warning bell rang and they scrambled to find what was left of their things and head off their separate ways.

 

* * *

 

 

They bumped into each other again that afternoon, but each of them was texting (Bossuet to his mothers: only bumped into two people and broke one chair today!!! Musichetta to her father: I’m done studying the American culture, can we please go back to Tibet now? Joly to his mother: Have the sanitation bucket ready, dropped my books on the floor. Whats for dinner? Luv u.) and completely unaware of each others presence. At least not consciously. Without realizing it they made a perfect circle around each other, avoiding a collision similar to the one that morning.

A few days later they met again, on their way into the library. Joly was waiting for someone to open the door for him so that he could go inside, when Bossuet and Musichetta came from opposite directions. Musichetta saw the two of them and rolled her eyes, remembering how they’d made her late on her first day. Meanwhile both Bossuet and Joly smiled nervously, for different reasons.

Musichetta opened the door with Joly right behind her and Bossuet following him. The two new students looked rather confused when they walked through the door, but Joly knew just where he was.

He quickly walked up to the group of students sitting in the library and found his place next one student with red eyes who looked rather sick, and another who looked like he was in a fight every single day.

"Joly, who are your friends?" A curly haired man sitting at a table called out, obviously intending for them to hear and flashing a charming smile.

"Oh, um, they aren’t really my friends, they’re just some people I guess." He shrugged, watching the two of them.

"Hi, I’m Bossuet. Is this the GSA meeting?" His question was met with a couple of chuckles from the group, and finally a blond haired boy sitting next to charming-smile boy stood up. He walked up to the two of them in a manner that was friendly yet commanding.

"The GSA at this school is rather unproductive." He stuck out his hand to shake Bossuet’s "We do more work here for more people. We don’t limit ourselves to homosexuality, instead we form together to-"

"Put odd objects in our buttholes" The red eyed student next to Joly interrupted, causing everyone to start laughing except the blond, who turned and began lecturing the other student about 'expanding their influence'. Another student with large round glasses and a calming voice stepped into his place.

"That’s Enjolras, and just understand that he doesn’t quite know how to turn off the burning passion yet. But maybe someday he will, and it won’t be like having small talk with the sun."

He handed both Bossuet and Musichetta small fliers. “What we do is find charities that the school should support and then find ways to get people involved, here’s our current project. We want to get these neat water purifiers for people with out access to clean water.”

Musichetta looks at the paper for a moment then looks up. “Look this is really great and I’d love to help bu-”

"Hold that thought." Combeferre put up his hand and quickly turned around and began yelling at people, as a small but friendly wrestling match had started behind him.

'Who the hell are these people?' Musichetta thought to herself as she watched one boy pin another then lick his cheek affectionately.

She glanced over at Bossuet who was still looking at the flier. “So you’re gay huh?”

He looked up and flashed her one of the most genuine smiles she'd ever seen. “Nope, that would be my Moms. I’m actually bisexual.”

"Oh, ok so by any chance would you happen to know where the history club is meeting?" She tucked the flier into her bag and hefted it more onto her shoulder.

"Not a clue, I’m new here."

"Me too. Musichetta." She held out her hand he took it with that amazing smile again.

"Bossuet. I think we bumped into each other earlier. By the way, I’m really sorry about that."

She shrugged. “I’m over it.”

He glanced back at the group that was starting to calm down. “Are you gonna stick around?”

She glanced at her watch and sighed. “I might as well”

She found a seat at the table and set her bag down. A couple of boys at the table introduced themselves as Courfeyrac, the one who had first noticed them, Feuilly, who looked rather young, and Jean.

“But you can call me Jehan, since we’re gonna be friends and all.”

Musichetta smiled weakly. He was a sweet kid, but this wasn’t where she wanted to make friends. Not just this little club, but the entire school or even the country. She didn’t like staying in one place too long, it felt too much like she was going to melt into the ground forever. Plus she could get enough American culture and friendship online.

She cast a glance to Bossuet, who had sat next to her and his passive look quickly turned into a smile.

The blond, Enjolras, returned to the table and introduced himself properly. Then sat and began explaining to them what they did and what they were currently doing.

“…Actually, Musichetta, you’d be the first girl to join our group. I mean, that booby Marius has that one girls he’s always pinning after, but she never comes to the meetings because she doesn’t actually know his name. And then there’s that Eponine who only comes around to ask if Marius is-”

He was interrupted by Combeferre, who had kind of a dopey look on his face. “Actually about her…”

At that point everyone seemed to stop listening and started chatting among themselves. Bossuet sat, barely keeping himself from grinning as he realized that he wanted to be friends with these people. ‘I’m not gonna screw this up.’

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Joly was getting interrogated.

“Who are they?” First, it was Bahorel.

“Do you like one of them?” Grantaire next.

“Is it the guy? He looks sweet.” For some reason, Feuilly had decided to go out of his way to join the conversation.

“The girl looks kind of annoyed though, have you been heckling her? We’ll have to start calling you Marius.” Grantaire again.

“Why don’t you tell us which one it is? We’ll be nice.” Bahorel.

“Also do you have a cure for this hangover yet?” Grantaire.

Finally Joly couldn’t take it anymore and he just burst.

“I don’t even know either of their names! And the most contact I’ve had with either of them is when I knocked into them on the first day of school! I don’t like them, and I don’t have intentions of ever liking them, now leave me alone!”

By now he’d gotten rather loud, and everyone else’s chatter had stopped so they could pay attention to him. There was a long, awkward silence before Musichetta clapped her hands on the table.

“Sounds like my queue to leave.” She said, mentally adding. ‘-and never come back.’

Her and Bossuet left, not together, but at around the same time. Joly watched after them, feeling rather stupid.

 

 

 


	2. How was the Roman Empire cut in half?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre spends time tutoring people. 
> 
> Eponine does not need a tutor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is literally only about Combeferre/Eponine #shameless

Combeferre was one of the smartest kids in the school, that was a well known fact. He passed every class with flying colors, and teacher notes about how much of a joy he was to have in class. He was also one of the nicest. And not the in-your-face-look-at-me-I’m-kind sort of way, but the quiet nice. Like leaving someone a note about how smart of creative or funny they are if they’re having a bad day. Or week. This quiet niceness came to life the most when he tutored.

“She’s right over there. She’s behind in history, so you’re just going to help her catch up.” The teacher pointed him to a girl in the back corner of the student center, sitting with ruddy shoes and her hair pulled back hastily into a bun that was falling apart at the seams.

“Hi,” he pulled her attention away from the paper she was reading and introduced himself. “I’m Combeferre, and I’m told we’re working on history today.”

“Yeah,” She didn’t smile, but her face lightened a bit from its usual tough expression, her tone however, made it clear she was on the defensive. “I’m Eponine, and I’m only behind because I miss a lot of school.”

He smiled and sat down. “Well I’m sure you don’t really need my help, but I’m here for you anyway.”

“You’re right, I don’t really need you to help.” She didn’t say it in a way that was necessarily rude.

“Ok, so just grab me if you need me.” He smiled and watched her pull out one of the dated history books the school gave out. She started reading and writing out her answers, filling the whole page in after about 10 minutes. After she’s filled out the page, she kept reading until the end of the chapter, despite not having any questions to answer.

She passed the sheet to Combeferre and shut the book. Her handwriting was jagged and scribbled, but he still managed to read it alright.

“Sorry about my handwriting, I taught myself.” She didn’t say it like she was at all sorry, and he didn’t want her to be.

“How to write? Are you serious? That’s amazing, I have a friend who did that, but he was an orphan.” He had a weird excitement in his voice that Eponine had never had anyone direct at her before. He handed back the paper, assuring her that it was correct.

“I might as well be.” She spat and began rifling through more papers to find the next assignment.

He felt a little odd, sitting in the silence after that. “Can I ask you something?”

She kept going through the papers, reading a line or two here and there, but made an affirmative noise.

“Why did you read the end of the chapter? There weren’t any questions on it.” He’d seen most kids who were behind just do the bare minimum, usually because they just wanted to be caught up. But she seemed different than the other kids, and while it wasn’t his place to ask why she was behind, he was still immensely curious.

Eponine shrugged. “I like to know things, and now I know that bronze is copper mixed with tin and that the Chinese were known for their bronze art.”

He didn’t say anything in response, but watched her with an intense curiosity. Suddenly she laughed, it was a small sound, as if she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to laugh. He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

She looked up and turned red. “Nothing, just a joke I heard that I hadn’t gotten until just now.”

“What was the joke?”

“You’ll hate it.” Her smile was growing, showing a small chip at the bottom of one of her teeth. He kept insisting, which only made them both more giggly.

“How was the Roman Empire cut in half?”

“How?”

“A pair of Ceasers.”

They both burst out laughing, disturbing the people around them and earning Combeferre and odd look from the lady manning the check in desk. Eventually they managed to calm themselves down and get back to work, but the smiles didn’t fade from either face for the rest of the period.

The next few weeks went by and she was flying through course work. They occasionally would share jokes with one another. Sometimes Eponine wouldn’t want to do the coursework, and despite Combeferre’s attempts to get her back on task, they would end up having a long conversation that had nothing to do with history. Every time this happened, Eponine picked the topic, and they were always rather thoughtful. Combeferre didn’t talk to anyone about her, because he thought it rude to talk about someone else needing tutoring, but he did take some of her ideas and toss them around in his head, even bringing a few of them up with his friends.

At the start of their third week, she came with a pack of sugary, chocolatey treats.

“I wanted to thank you for helpin me out these past few weeks.” Eponine held out the bag to him. He blushed and shook his head.

“Eponine, I don’t deserve these. All I’ve done is watch you get every answer right the first time. You don’t even need me that much.”

“C’mon, don’t be one of this guys that just refuses a gift. ‘Sides, I can’t do it without you to talk to and joke around with.”

He reluctantly took the candy but started sharing with her immediately, which she didn’t object to. He chuckled to himself, thinking she probably didn’t object because she was trying to stick to that moral of not being one of those guys that refuses a gift.

As he sat there watching her finish one of her last assignments, he couldn’t help but notice small details about her. Like the small knick on the shell of her ear, or the way her lips would twitch a little when she was focused. He realized he was staring and went on ahead eating his bite sized Snickers.

Then he started to think about how she was almost caught up on all the classes she’d missed and how she wouldn’t need tutoring anymore.

He suddenly spoke up, which he rarely if ever did while she was working.

“Eponine,” She looked up, expectantly. “You’re almost done you know.”

A wide smile came over her lips and she nodded.

“I still have to take my final.”

“Yeah, but a after that I won’t have to tutor you, not that I ever really did it in the first place. Anyway, my friends have this group that we use to help other people and kind of talk about issues, a lot of the same issues that you and I talk about and I think you should come hang out.”

Eponine bit her lip and he could tell she was hesitating answering, what he couldn’t tell was that in her head, she was debating if he was worth it. Finally she smiled.

“I would love to come.”


	3. They're Parabola-ly Going to be Friends Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musichetta comes back for notes. She stays for the puns.

The next time Musichetta came to the library on one of the nights that they had their meetings, a new girl was with them; sitting next to Combeferre and looking rather happy about it. Bossuet was also there, he was in one of her classes, but she never talked to him. Well, she never _got_ to talk to him, he was on the other side of the room and she didn't have a real reason to go out of her way to make conversation. Actually, Joly had just gotten moved into that class because his old teacher caught a cold, but he sat in the back, so he wasn't close to either of them.

Musichetta had come to the meeting hoping to go over the notes they’d taken in class, but figured she probably shouldn’t just barge in seeing as they were in the middle of a discussion. The new girl seemed to fit in rather well, Musichetta started to notice strange glances between her and Combeferre. Not that they ever looked when the other was looking. It was kind of cute, the two of them together. Almost made her start to think about her own single status. Almost. Because Musichetta had never really had anything more than shameless flirting and a quick fling, and she kind of liked it that way.

She found herself taking a seat at a far end of the table, and watching. Bossuet was next to her, and seemed very excited to see her back.

“Hey, how have you been?”

“Fine, I was hoping to go over the algebra notes with you or Joly.” His smile fell a little bit.

“Aw, man, I would really love to give you the notes but I dropped my notebook in a puddle this morning.” He started laughing and added. “Guess I have an excuse as to why I can’t find the factored form of an equation.”

Musichetta was a bit perplexed by why he was so happy, but brushed it off.

“Joly was going to give me the notes later, if you wanna mooch off him.”

“Sounds good.”

That’s how Musichetta really started joining the group. Joly, who had been in the bathroom when Musichetta showed up, came back and sat next to her. He looked back from the discussion to see what her reaction was to nearly everything that was said, each time getting a snotty face or puffed out cheeks and two crossed eyes.

Everyone else started to pack up, except the trio at the end of the table. A chorus of whistles came from Grantaire, Bahorel, and Courfeyrac as they left, turning Joly’s cheeks red

He pulled out his notebook and made a questioning face at Bossuet, titling his head to Musichetta who was busy pulling out her own notes and didn’t notice. Bossuet just shrugged and grabbed his own new notebook. The pair had become nearly inseparable since they first started talking to each other. Joly had apologized profusely for what he had said, and Bossuet forgave him instantly. Over the weeks they had bonded over their love of bad horror films and old tv shows.

Their notebooks were all out and soon they were off, talking about vertexes and parabolas and other math stuff.

“Hey Joly?” Bossuet interrupted at one point.

“Yeah, Bossuet?”

“Is x squared the curvy one?”

Musichetta, not missing a beat, and not looking up from her notebook, butted in with. “Parabola-ly.”

Joly and Bossuet stared at each other for a moment before they started laughing. Musichetta didn't make a sound, but she smiled down at her paper.

“Why don’t you hang out here more Musichetta?” Joly asked, deciding for all of them that the notes and study session was over.

“Well, I usually try not to dig in too deep to any place I live. I’m used to traveling a lot.”

“Do you like Star Wars?” Joly glanced at Bossuet. That was exactly what Bossuet had said when he first went over to Joly’s house and saw the millions of posters on Joly’s bedroom walls of every last one of the movies. The kid even had original action figures of the cast up on a shelf. Bossuet tried not to think about how Joly had said he had only ever let 5 people into his room. And that was counting his parents. 

“I’m a Trekie.” Musichetta responded with a challenging grin.

“Oh, hell no.” Joly shook his head. “And I thought we could be friends. Maybe even best friends.” He started this fake cry that wouldn't convince a blind man and put his head down on the table. Bossuet reached over and patted his back, looking over at Musichetta.

“I like Game of Thrones, so I’m Sweden.”

“What does that even mean?” Joly wailed.

“It means he’s neutral.” Musichetta smiled. “But what war are we talkin' here, chief? One or two?”

“Let’s go one, since Joly here isn’t so great at history.” Bossuet stuck his tongue out.

“I’m good at history. _Medical_ history. And I’m telling you right now if you keep this up both of you will have a medical history with one extra broken nose in it.”

Musichetta put a hand over her chest dramatically. “You wouldn't hit a girl would you?”

“You damn Trekies. Always going the noble road.” Joly clenched his fist on the table.

“I’d hit a girl, but only if she deserved it.” Bossuet cut in.

The night wore on with the three of them laughing and enjoying each other’s company. And from that day on, Musichetta came to every meeting and always sat next to Joly and Bossuet, and sometimes, even between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not apologized for the puns used here today.


	4. Bossuet Helps a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's short because the next one will be super long and this one has very little to do with the next one so.

Bossuet was walking to class when he noticed a small figure hiding near the staircase. He knew he was late, due in part to his shoe falling apart as he put it on and on another part of his own inability to figure out his alarm clock worked. He didn’t even check the time or think of anything else other than helping whoever it was.

“Hey, do you need someone to take you to the guidance office? Or the bathroom?” He asked in the gentlest voice he had, which was positively purr inducing considering his voice was at a register that was very soothing. The figure sniffled and looked up with familiar dark eyes.

“‘Ponine?” He instantly began putting his books down and making himself comfortable next to her. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

She shook her head and started crying again, and he pulled her close to his shoulder. After a little while, she stopped and looked up at him.

“Aren’t you going to be late for class?” Her voice was raw from crying but she still tried to sound like she wasn’t upset at all.

“It can wait. What happened?”

“Marius Pontmercy.” She shifted her feet bitterly.

“You mean that boy you used to always follow around?”

“The boy that I’m in love with. He finally talked to me outside of class.”

Bossuet tilted his head with a confused look on his face, prompting her to continue.

“He wants me to help him ask another girl out.”

Bossuet’s confused look didn’t fade, instead he opened his mouth.

“I thought you liked Combeferre, are you guys not a thing?”

Eponine snorted. “Me and him? I mean, he’s great, he’s a good listener and really funny and he’s really smart to talk to, but we’re not together.”

“Oh, I mean, the way you two acted together, the way you looked at him, just made me think.” Bossuet had thought, he had thought how cute they were, constantly making history jokes to one another and giggling quietly at little jokes. He had chemistry with them both and whenever they’d had to get into groups the two of them worked to make sure Bossuet never had to do anything that would likely hurt him, which was almost everything. They were like this cute little team.

Neither Bossuet nor Eponine said anything for a while, sitting in the silence of what he had said. He decided to check the time and noticed that second period was about to start. He patted his knees and broke the silence.

“Look, ‘ponine, I haven’t ever met this Marius guy, but to me, it sounds like he just doesn’t like you as more than a friend. However, I have met Combeferre, and I’m not trying to push you into anything, but I think there could be something there.”

With those words he stood just as the bell rang. He gathered his things then stuck out his hand to gather up Eponine. As she stood she smiled and thanked him.

 


	5. That's Poetic as Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Musichetta pulls a Grantaire. Bossuet and Joly kiss. Bahorel and Courfeyrac make out with the same girl.

There was a party that Friday run by some kid that Bahorel knew who he’d felt would get along well with the rest of his friends. He never said that they wouldn’t get to meet this girl because the party would be too full of people who were drunk and disorderly.

Everyone showed up, some planning on drinking, others not, and then there was Grantaire who was already drunk. Joly for one wasn’t drinking no matter what, considering how unsanitary the distribution methods of those red solo cups were. He hadn’t wanted to come at all, but Bossuet and Musichetta had insisted on this one night of reckless behavior.

So they all showed up together, and were greeted by Bahorel yelling something about the party being here and stealing Bossuet away immediately. Joly watched in horror when he lost both his friends as Musichetta told him she didn’t like crowded spaces and went to the back deck.

For a moment, Joly thought about sitting next to Enjolras, Combeferre, and Eponine- which he quickly rethought when he noticed how close Eponine and Combeferre were talking and how annoyed Enjolras looked.

He decided to try and find literally anyone else, when he noticed Bahorel had dropped Bossuet off somewhere. Currently the intoxicated teen known for his fighting was against a wall with a frizzy haired girl doing things that are normally frowned upon in a public space.

“At least their clothes are still on.” Joly sighed to himself and wondered off to find Bossuet. 

* * *

 

Musichetta hated lying to Joly, and she had the same feelings about Bossuet. But there was a more pressing matter and it was the box of cigarettes in her pocket. She had taken up the habit recently, because she’d been stressed with school and the meetings and these two boys that she’d inexplicably started hanging around with and she’d promised herself only one a week. And right now was her one.

Outside she found Grantaire, sitting on the stairs and leaning a little too dependently on a railing support. She went over and sat next to him, only to be surprised by a sudden upchuck of the contents of his stomach. Musichetta was just thankful he wasn’t facing her.

She quickly pulled out a couple of tissues (Joly had gotten her in the habit) and a small tin of mints. She offered him both one at a time, waiting patiently for him to clean himself up.

“Thanks ‘Chetta.” He still sounded rather drunk, but that was the normal for him.

“No problem. Why are you so drunk anyway? I mean more than usual.” She took back her mints and pulled out her lighter.

“There’s an angel wearing pants so tight they had to be painted on and I’m jealous that I’m not the one who painted them.”

“That was poetic as shit.” She punctuated the sentence by placing a cigarette between her lips. “Don’t tell Joly.”

He nodded and watched her light it up, eyes still heavy from intoxication. “You shouldn’t smoke. It’ll damage your skin and lungs and everything else.”

“Thanks, Joly.” She smirked and took a drag, relaxing as she blew the smoke away from him. “So tell me, what is it between Enjolras and you?”

“We hate each other.” He spoke smugly. “More importantly he’s the most amazing human being I’ve ever met. I’ve never seen anyone more passionate that he is constantly. And to think that the flames of hell can be encased in one body is fascinating. Not to mention he’s hot as hell.”

“So are you guys banging?” She took another drag.

“Well, no. Haven’t you noticed that he hates me?” Grantaire leaning against the post again.

“No. In fact, I’ve only seen an Enjolras that enjoys your company. On days that you’re too hungover to come to school, he is genuinely annoyed that you aren’t there.”

This gained a laugh from the borderline melancholic Grantaire. “Why would he care?”

Musichetta shrugged. “I thought you were debate buddies or whatever, even if you were terrible at formal debate styles.”

“Humph” was the only response.

“You want to know something?” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been around the world a lot. Tibet, Japan, Turkey, Nigeria, lots of places people in suburban U.S.A haven’t heard of. I’ve seen a lot of couples who’ve been married for years, but the way you look at him when you’re fighting- no not your goofy, mocking faces- but when he’s monologuing, that look I’ve only seen once in a woman who is 92 years old. And she only looks that way at the pictures of her husband who died when they were both 44. She didn’t even look at her kids with that much adoration and love. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say your look comes from the exact same emotions.”

A moment passed and he didn’t say anything, so she flicked her cigarette into the yard. He offered her his cup, when she asked if he was going to finish it, he said he wasn’t in the mood anymore.

She takes the cup and has a small sip, gagging and nearly spitting it out.

"What’s in this Grantaire?"

He just smirked and left.

* * *

Back inside, Bossuet had found his way down the stairs to a classic game of spin the bottle. He hadn’t gotten to spin yet, but he couldn’t tell if it was bad luck or good luck.

"Alright, Courf, your turn." Some girl that he didn’t know poked his friend in the shoulder.

Courf spun and it landed on a girl with frizzy hair, she smiled and stuck out her tongue. Instead of kissing her, he told her to stand up as he did the same. One hand went around her waist and the other on her cheek as he dipped her like “V-J Day in Times Square”. A couple people started laughing, one whistled and another told them to get a room.

When the kiss was over, the girl left to fix her lipstick, which had been smeared over Courf’s face. After she’d been gone too long to just be in the bathroom, Courf went to do the same thing.

As Courf left, Joly found Bossuet, and took a seat next to him, claiming that he wasn’t going to play due to it’s unsanitary nature (and a rant about not knowing where another person's tongue has been). A few turns later, it was Bossuet’s turn to spin. He flicked the bottle, sending it spinning wildly.

It spun a few times then landed squarely on Joly. Joly made a small noise of ‘oh’. But as Bossuet reached to respin, Joly stopped him.

"It’s ok, I know where you’ve been." Joly chuckled and smiled at Bossuet.

"Are you sure?" Bossuet definitely didn’t want Joly to feel he could get sick. Over the months he’d gotten to know just how bad Joly’s hypochondria was, and he’d learned that some days the boy didn’t even get out of bed because he was too anxious. And that he often thought of burning everything around him just to get it clean. Luckily, he’d also learned that these occurrences were rare.

"I’m sure."

Bossuet nodded and turned toward Joly. Both closed their eyes and leaned in, each surprised when they first made contact. After a moment Bossuet put his hand on Joly’s cheek and Joly moved closer. In truth the kiss was too long and too deep to be any part of a game, but no one in the vicinity said anything because they were too busy being shocked by the sudden intensity of a simple game of spin the bottle.

As they both pulled away, two faces became red and they scrambled to stand up. Each made up excuses and spoke small muttered things and Joly finally said he was going to head home. Bossuet watched forlornly as he rushed through the crowd and up the stairs. He couldn’t call out because his voice was caught in his throat. He also had absolutely no idea what to say, let alone what would hold any kind of meaning. He stuck around for a few minutes after Joly left, but said nothing to anyone, then left as well.

* * *

 

Musichetta had drunk the entire contents of Grantaire’s drink, which left her feeling more than a little tipsy. She’d gone back inside in search of Joly and Bossuet. Hearing from someone that they had both left, she couldn’t help but be a little upset that they didn’t grab her on their way out. She found herself sitting alone on the couch where Combeferre, Eponine, and Enjolras had been sitting. Eventually, Bahorel came around nearly as drunk as she was.

"Hey, where’s Bossuet?" Bahorel asked.

She shrugged. “Someone said he went home, same with Joly.”

"You didn’t go with them?" Bahorel seemed very level headed for someone who had had ten refills of his solo cup.

"Why would I? They’re independent and so am I. I’d say they’re closer to each other than they are to me." Musichetta sighed, feeling melancholic. "Anyway, I’m going to do just like them and skedattle.”

“Have Enjolras take you home, he’ll be looking for an excuse.” Bahorel relaxed against the couch, more once she’d left.

* * *

The car ride was short, since they both lived in the same neighborhood as the party. For a little while, they sat in silence listening to Enjolras’s political news radio, not that Musichetta was particularly interested in politics. Personally, she was more of a science and technology kind of girl, but she didn’t complain because it was a ride home.

“Did you say something to Grantaire?” Enjolras broke their silence suddenly.

“I’m sorry?”

“He came up to me after you went out on the porch with him. Something about needing to find a way to prove something to me. I couldn’t understand much, but there was also garbled nonsense about you and some ancient couple in Dubai.”

“I did not say anything about Dubai, that’s for sure.” Musichetta snorted, but inside she was afraid she’d just messed up the delicate balance between Grantaire and Enjolras.

“Whatever, probably just more useless drunken rambling.” He scoffed. “You know, Grantaire might actually be useful if he wasn’t constantly boozed up.

“Don’t say it like that. So he needs something to cope, doesn’t everyone? You have your charities and Combeferre has his books. Sometimes people’s coping methods are frowned upon, like how Bahorel picks fights with people. Everyone needs something.” She only paused a moment before pointing at a house down the road. “That one’s mine.”

She thanked him for the ride and went off to bed.


	6. It's just...ugh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire's drunk, Enjolras is quiet, Bahorel is Mr. Steal-yo-girl, and Joly rants.

The next meeting was somewhat of a disaster. Grantaire had actually come to school drunk, as opposed to his usual hangover. It had earned him an in-school-suspension, which in turn made him ineligible for after-school activities. So technically, he wasn’t supposed to be at the meeting. When he did show up, Combeferre quickly jumped into a quiet lecture over it. Eponine just sat in her usual place and watched Combeferre scold him while deep in thought. Enjolras looked distracted and just as deep in thought as Eponine, which was odd because usually his focus was comparable to Cyclops's laser eyes. Bahorel and Courfeyrac were arguing over a girl they had met at the party. Jehan was actually sick that day and Joly just hadn’t shown up, which was troubling because he usually texted both Bossuet and Musichetta about what disease he was fearful of contracting. Feuilly seemed to be the only one completely normal after the party, probably because he hadn't gone.

Bossuet came to the meeting actually a little relieved that Joly wasn’t there. He wasn’t quite ready to talk about the kiss, even if it was just a stupid game. Musichetta came in and took a seat at the table, leaving an empty chair between them.

“Joly’s not here today.” Bossuet said, thinking she’d just forgot.

“I know.” Musichetta said two words then nothing else to him the rest of the meeting. Instead she focused on homework that wasn’t due until a week later.

The meeting went on like that, nothing changed except Courfeyrac storming out and Grantaire falling asleep.

 

The next day, no one wasn’t any better. But now Joly had come to school looking like he hadn’t slept at all. Bossuet tried to talk to him, but everytime Joly had to walk away for some flimsy reason. He also tried Musichetta, but she gave him the cold shoulder, too. As far as he could tell, they weren’t talking to each other either, but he couldn’t figure out if that made him feel any better.

Joly, having missed a day of classes, asked Courfeyrac at lunch what he missed. He wasn’t actually expecting the answer he got.

“Well, ya know, the usual of Bahorel screwing me over a-fucking-gain.” Courfeyrac spat.

Joly’s eyes grew wide and he sighed. “What happened?”

“Well you know that party? Well, there was a girl there, Irma, you know her right? Anyway I’m kind of interested in her, but at the party here comes Bahorel, flirting with her as his usual self, and he actually ends up making out with her and I’m sitting here like ‘What the hell?’ Now he’s trying to tell me he’s interested in her and she’s got feelings for him, but I know she’s got a crush on me and it’s just… ugh.”

Joly took a deep breath. Boy was there a lot to deal with here. Truth was Joly had known Irma since kindergarden. She had been the one to help him through his panic attack after he fell at recess and scraped his knee on the third day of school. They’d been kind of secret friends, not talking in public but having some of the deepest conversations when they were alone.

“Ok, come on, we’re going to find Bahorel.”

“I’m not talking this out-” Courfeyrac folded his arms.

“You aren’t talking. I am.”

They found Bahorel in his usual corner, and Joly made them both sit down at a table, not even batting an eyelash when they gave each other the stink eye and sat as far from each other as they could.

“Alright listen, I’ve known Irma for roughly 10 years, and there’s just one thing I’ve gotta say.” He took a huge breath and got ready to rant. “Irma Boisey is not the type to have a solid relationship. With anyone. Chances are, even if she did get into a relationship, it would be an open one, but that’s probably not going to happen. Irma does what she wants when she wants with whomever she wants. Clearly she finds you both attractive, but don’t get your hopes up of having a committed, monogamous girlfriend, because that’s an Irma that doesn’t exist. She once told me that she doesn’t like all the hassle of a relationship and doesn’t think it sounds fun.

“And I swear if either of you try to make her do something that she doesn’t want to do, like hold your damn hand and go to the movies together, not only will she kick your ass, but so will I. So I don’t know what the hell you’re going to do, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re arguing over a girl that won’t date either of you, so let it go.”

Bahorel and Courfeyrac stared slack-jawed at Joly. He felt rather triumphant in getting his point across and spun around to head back to class.


	7. He's Practically Already In Love With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine and Combeferre fight and Bossuet and Joly do something... else

That afternoon Bahorel and Courfeyrac weren't fighting- mostly because neither wanted the wrath of Joly brought down on them- and the meeting went oddly well. Even compared to the standard everything was going smoothly.

The only thing out of place was Musichetta, who wasn't in her place. Joly couldn't stop thinking about where she was, he looked to Bossuet twice. First to ask if he knew where she was, to which Bossuet shook his head and shrugged. And second so that they could silently agree to go visit her after the meeting. Neither of them payed much attention to the meeting, as they were too busy racking their brains for a reason-any reason- that Musichetta would be gone without telling them.

They left the library ready to go to her house after getting the address from Enjolras, who made them promise not to use the knowledge for evil purposes. Musichetta answered the door herself, her parents faintly calling from inside to find out who it was.

"What are you guys doing here?" She closed the door behind her, leaving them to talk on the porch.

"We were worried when you didn't show up to the meeting." Bossuet spoke first.

"Well, I'm fine."

"Why weren't you there?" Joly leaned back against the railing of Musichetta's porch.

"Because." Musichetta looked a little uncomfortable with the conversation, but neither boy was willing to let her just go on without explanation.

"Are you ok, 'Chetta?" Bossuet reached out and took her hand, but she immediately let her hand slip limply out of his.

"I'm fine it's nothing, I just didn't feel like coming to the meeting. Anyway, we're about to start dinner." Then she hurried back inside without a good-bye.

Joly and Bossuet waited for a little while then started walking to Bossuet's house. They didn't say anything for a long time, until they met Eponine on their path.

"Hey Eponine! Heading to Combeferre's?" Bossuet smiled, but not as big as he normally did, which was always noticeable to his friends.

"Yeah, are you guys ok?" She stopped her bike and walked along side them.

"Yeah, we're fine." Joly sounded far too dejected to be fine.

"Obviously not. Tell me about it." Eponine bumped Bossuet lightly with her shoulder, hoping to cheer him up a bit.

"'Chetta's acting weird. But she doesn't want to talk about it."

"That's odd, maybe I could talk to her. Ya know, girl to girl?"

"No offense 'ponine," Bossuet smiled weakly "but don't think she'd talk to you if she didn't talk to us, gender or not."

"Well, I hope you guys get it worked out soon."

Bossuet seemed in a better mood and gave Eponine a sly smile.

"So tell us about you and Combeferre."

Joly made a scandalous OOO noise and started giggling.

"He's... great." She practically sighed the words. "But I don't know if he wants to deal with me and all my baggage. I mean, I have my family situation, money situation, the Montparnasse thing. It's a lot to deal with and I don't want him to have to take my load."

"Oh no, 'ponine."  Bossuet said. "Combeferre lives for baggage, he loves to help people- even if it's just about listening to your problems."

Not having noticed that Bossuet had seemed satisfied with the end of the explanation, Joly quickly added: "Plus he's practically already in love with you, so I don't-" Bossuet elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Anyway," Bossuet continued. "If your so-called ‘baggage’ keeps you from being in a relationship with someone, don't let 'ferre be that someone."

Eponine nodded and said good-bye, rolling her bike away. The last thing she heard was Joly asking what the ‘Montparnasse thing' was and Bossuet laughing.

The ride to Combeferre's house was usually short when she didn't stop and talk, but he always seemed to know when she was going to ask to come over because he was always free and always had a snack ready. Today he had cookies straight from the oven on a plate when she got to the front door.

"Are you someone's grandmother?" Eponine laughed and took a cookie.

"I like to embody the spirit of grandmothers everywhere." 'Ferre shrugged and laughed with her. "So we're doing math tonight, right?"

Eponine started to say yes, then stopped herself. As of late she was scraping up reasons for them to hang out, even claiming she didn't understand stuff in math just so she could get his 'tutoring'. In reality math had always been her easiest subject and she blazed through the work at their sessions so they could just hang out.

"Actually, I wanted to talk..."

Combeferre's face instantly turned into worry as he set the cookies down and let her come inside.

"Are you ok? What's wrong? Has something happened?"

"No! No, no I just wanted to talk." Eponine sits on the couch that has become all too familiar due to all the times she'd shyly avoided eye contact. 'Ferre sat next to her in his usual spot, putting his hand over hers- "in the most adorably protective way" Eponine thought. She shook her head forced herself to focus.

"What is it?" Combeferre asked innocently.

"I want to talk about Marius." Eponine cringed at herself, angry that she'd come up with this plan that was better in theory than practice. Just like any other time the freckled, awkward boy was mentioned, Combeferre's face grew just a shade disappointed. And slightly jealous. But before she’d always been too wrapped up in her Marius troubles to notice the change that came over Combeferre.

Eponine took a deep breath and began. "So the thing about Marius is that he's not interested in me at all, which really sucks." -ferre nodded, like he usually did when he was listening- "He also has a new girlfriend who's actually kind of amazing, so I can't really hate her"

"You shouldn't hate someone because the guy you like, likes them instead." Combeferre interrupted in a bored tone, probably more apathetic than he had intended his correction to be.

"Well, I don't so don't worry about it." Eponine made herself look past his tone of voice and keep going. "Anyway, they're really cute together, more than he and I ever would be. They seem to fit together like a puzzle."

Combeferre uncharacteristically interrupted again, this time sounding extremely frustrated. "Eponine, hovering over a couple that you think is better than you isn't going to solve any of your problems. Honestly I'm surprised you are even still pining after that guy, I thought you were smarter than to go after something you know is pointless."

Eponine felt her face get red at the insult and stood up to defend herself.

"Excuse me? I thought you were the one who was supposed to be compassionate and caring for other people. Besides, don't you think some of this stuff you fight for is pointless?"

Combeferre had joined her in standing, and both raised their voices rather loudly.

"We're fighting for a cause-"

"You're a couple of high schoolers making cheap posters and broadcasting overly complex ideals to an apathetic audience. Too bad you're just as apathetic as the rest of them."

At that final point, Eponine stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

 

Joly and Bossuet had been on the way home when Joly realized where they were and who lived close by. He pointed to a green house down the street and asked if they could make a pit stop.

"Irma needs to give me back my old cardiovascular text book, so I'll just get it since we're here."

Bossuet had never been in Irma's house before, and found it to be the same as most of the average houses in the area. He still felt a little awkward and opted to wait downstairs while Joly and Irma went up for the textbook. The calendar on the wall was still on last month, so he flipped it up. Then he spent an abnormal amount of time examining the bookshelf- which held mostly photo albums that he didn't want to snoop through.

Irma and Joly came back down with a large blue textbook and a lively conversation. Irma took one look at Bossuet and smiled slyly.

"Joly, is this-?" An elbow in her side ended her question early.

"Irma," Joly said through gritted teeth. "This is Bossuet. Bossuet, Irma."

"I've heard a lot about you." Irma held out her hand with the same grin on her face. Joly shot her a glance.

"I've heard nothing about you. Joly?" Bossuet cocked an eyebrow up at his friend and put on the same smile.

"Hey! Bossuet, don't your moms want us back by 6? It's nearly 5:30 we should get going!" Joly pulled Bossuet out the door, Irma yelling after them about how her and Bossuet should talk more and Bossuet yelling back the affirmative.

"Dude, my house is 15 minutes away." Bossuet complained about leaving early. Joly wasn't listening, instead he was pulling some wet wipes from his pocket and whipping down the book and his hands.

"I'll carry the book if you want." Bossuet offered out his hand but Joly shook his head.

"You'll just get it dirty."

"Is that why you had to clean your hands after touching me?" Bossuet tried not to sound offended.

"Bossuet you know it's not like that."

"Is that why you left after we kissed? Because you had to go clean your mouth out of me?"

They both stopped and Joly looked mortified and upset.

"That- that was... It wasn't about germs. It wasn't even about you." Joly sounded indignant, and positively pissed off that Bossuet was making fun of him. Bossuet who was always careful not to make a big deal out of it. Bossuet who never let anyone touch Joly without permission, even just a tap on the shoulder. Bossuet who had learned to carry a bottle of hand sanitizer around so he could use it before they did stuff together. Now that Bossuet was mocking him. And now that Bossuet was realizing just what he'd said.

"Joly, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of you. You know I wouldn't do that, right? The words just got away from me."

Joly looked up and the smallest spark of smile came to his face. "It's ok, I know you wouldn't."

They kept walking, Joly trying to feel not awkward and Bossuet turning everything over in his head. They got to Bossuet's house and headed up to his room. It was only after they were safely inside with the door closed that Bossuet finally broke the silence.

"What movie do you want to watch?" Bossuet looked through his stacks of movies, pulling a couple he thought would be fun to watch.

Joly grabbed an old rom-com and they pull the blankets and pillows off the bed to sit on the floor.

Halfway through the movie, Bossuet's arm had ended up around Joly's shoulder and his eyes had drifted shut. Joly felt himself getting drowsy as well, but he knew he wouldn't fall asleep. Bossuet usually fell asleep with in 20 minutes of starting a movie that he'd already seen. Joly glanced up at his sleeping friend and smiled.

Bossuet, having slept for a solid 15 minutes, woke up to Joly's lips on his. The smaller boy pulled away quickly, apologies tumbling out of his mouth as he got up off the floor. This time Bossuet wasn't frozen with confusion and he grabbed at Joly's hand.

Joly however, was able to slip out of Bossuet's grasp and run out the door, leaving Bossuet just as upset and confused as the first time they’d kissed.


	8. I'm Sick of You Pussyfooting Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire cries to Musichetta about Enjolras and Musichetta is sick of their shit.

Musichetta, was not expecting guests that night. She hadn't expected Joly and Bossuet to show up, considering they both got on just fine without her and she didn’t consider herself all that important to them. She also hadn't expected Grantaire to show up looking slightly panicked an hour or two after.

"Come upstairs." She lead him to her bedroom (after some rather curious looks from her parents) and sat him down in her desk chair.

"I fucked up." Grantaire was chewing his lower lip, a habit that had lasted long enough to cause small scars.

"I went to Enjolras's house to talk about some stuff, and then I got there and one thing led to another and we were fighting and we yelled at each other and it wasn’t like when we normally fight. This time was more personal and we said things to hurt each other and you’re the closest house so I came here."

"First," Musichetta sat on her bed, crossing her legs like a therapist. "What were you intending to talk about in the first place?"

Grantaire looked down at his thumbs. His voice, when he finally spoke, was soft and wistful. "I... I wanted to tell him how I felt. I wanted to tell him that I liked him. I didn't want to jump straight to saying I love him, because that would sound crazy and clingy, but I just wanted to him to know how much I liked him."

Musichetta felt a fond smile grow on her lips as he spoke. The look that was on his face when he spoke so quietly was so endearing- kind of a cross between a worried bunny and frightened kitten.

"So, why did you guys fight? What did you say?" Musichetta hated having to bring up something painful but she had to.

"I made an allusion to one of his old policies, comparing it to Stalin, and he got kind of upset."

"Enjolras doesn't 'kind of' do anything."

"Ok Enjolras was really upset, and now... He-" Grantaire stared at his hands sniffling. Musichetta got up and put her hand on his shoulder, bending to look him in the eye.

"What did he say?"

"He told me I was useless and that he hated me. Told me I hadn't done anything to help him with anything he worked for. He told me I shouldn't even bother showing up to the meetings."

Now Grantaire was crying into his hands and Musichetta's blood was boiling. She have him some tissues and told him to stay exactly where he was. She grabbed her jacket and left her room, leaving him alone. Grantaire heard the door open and close downstairs and then he started to worry, but he didn't care enough anymore to do anything.

Musichetta marched her way down the block and to the right, straight up to Enjolras's front door. She rang the doorbell and banged on it furiously. Finally the blond responsible for her anger opened the door with red eyes and tear stained cheeks. His appearance didn't stop her from ripping him a new one.

"How dare you! How dare you say something like that to Grantaire. He does everything in his life in the hopes that you'll notice him and when you finally give him attention all you do is bully him? You're a fucking jerk Enjolras, a massive-"

"I know." Enjolras choked down a sob. "I feel awful for what I said to him, but he left before I could apologize. I need him to know that I don't hate him, I need you to give him this."

He held out a folded up paper, presumably a letter for the crying boy sitting in her room.

"I want him to have this but I doubt he wants to see me." Enjolras pushed the letter towards her again and she grabbed his wrist.

"I'm sick of you two pussyfooting around." Musichetta pulled him all the way back to her house by the arm, not once looking back as she stomped down the sidewalk. She had to admit, this may or may not be a reflection of her feelings towards Joly and Bossuet at the moment, but that wasn't going to stop her from doing this. Especially if it would make Grantaire feel better.

Grantaire was sitting right where she had left him, fiddling with a pen from Musichetta's desk. The door flew open and he sat in shock staring at Enjolras.

"You two are figuring this out now." Musichetta spoke first. "Because when you two are in a room together there's so much tension it's hard to breathe, so no one is leaving until you work something out."

She walked to the door and locked it, leaning against it for good measure. For a little while, they sat silent and stared at each other. Finally Grantaire stood up to say something when Enjolras interrupted.

"I'm sorry. And you're infuriating. But I'm more sorry. But you're so loud and brackish. But I guess you're also kind of-.." His face got red and he looked at the patterned rug to his left. "Important to me."

"Oh Enjolras," Grantaire sighed mockingly, seemingly his old self. "It's such an honor to be known to you as annoying yet necessary."

"Look, this is exactly it!" Enjolras said, defensively. "You think you can just mock everyone and it's ok because your a drunk! You have to take things seriously everyonce in a while."

"Enjolras are you kidding me? You think I mock everyone? I mock you because I know you can take it and I know you can fight back."

"Well I'm sick of your shit. You can't just show up and argue with me and not expect there to be any objections to that."

"I thought you liked the arguing." Grantaire's voice lowered again. "I thought you thought it was fun. It was fun for me anyway. But if you want me out of your hair, I’ll do that for you."

Musichetta spoke for the first time since the yelling began. "Enjolras, can you not think of one time when Grantaire's arguing helped make your ideas and points stronger? Because I sure as hell can."

Enjolras thought for a long time, watching Grantaire and the floor in shifts or a couple seconds.

"Why did you come to my house today?" Enjolras spoke quietly to Grantaire, who blushed and shifted on his feet.

"I um, wanted to tell you that um..."

"He's in love with you." Musichetta deadpanned her eyes were closed but she still knew exactly what was happening. And she kind of wanted them out of her room so she could go to bed.

Grantaire made an affirming sound and nodded to Enjolras. This silence was the longest of all, or it at least felt like it. Enjolras took a deep breath and put his hands in his pockets.

"We should talk about this, let's go back to my house."

Musichetta got up and (gratefully) watched them leave down the driveway back to Enjolras's house. She flopped down on her bed and thought.

'Maybe I'm overreacting to Joly and Bossuet.' She thought to herself as she examined her nails. ‘I mean if those two idiots can overreact like that, maybe I could be guilty of the same charge.’


	9. What the Fuck Is Going On With...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of talking. A lot of weird.

That Thursday's meeting was odd for everyone. Jehan brought everyone homemade chocolates because he had a feeling that it would be bad, and when Jehan has a feeling, it's always right. And even though he showed up ready to change the situation, it quickly became obvious that this was no small job that chocolate could fix.

The scene laid out like a negative copy of normal. Bossuet and Eponine were sitting together at the far end of the table, while Eponine's normal meeting buddy Combeferre was at the other end with Joly and Courf. Bahorel and Feuilly were sitting with Musichetta on the floor away from the table. This all could have been taken with a grain of salt if the library wasn't so damn _quiet_.

Even if Joly were to sit somewhere apart from Bossuet and Musichetta, he would be yelling over to them like they were sitting next to each other in a park. There would be things thrown at each other and if it were during school, demerits probably given. Normally, Bahorel and Bossuet would be making obscene jokes to each other from across the room.

But there wasn't any talking or horsing around or noise in general. Just silence with the occasional whisper. The only two people who seemed to be getting along were Enjolras and Grantaire, who were talking quietly to each other at the corner of the table.

Jehan stared at them as he took a seat next to Bahorel, who also seemed to be on edge. He leaned over and whispered to the much larger boy.

“What’s going on?”

Bahorel shhed him and leaned in even closer. “Musichetta is fighting with Bossuet and Joly for some reason no one really knows except Musichetta herself. Combeferre and Eponine got in a fight about marius, and I have literally no idea about what the hell is going on with those two.”

He jabbed a finger in Grantaire and Enjolrass’ direction, they had looked up and were looking at how everyone was eerily quiet. Enjolras stood and called attention to himself, as he usually did.

“I would like to know who is willing to give up first period to help put up posters.” He seemed as if he were stepping around glass shards as he spoke, every word and eye contact perfectly placed so that his gaze wouldn’t travel from one side of a feud to another.

At first, Combeferre and Eponine both raised their hands, then, upon seeing each other, put them both down. Joly gave Bossuet a glance, then quickly looked over to Musichetta who was drawing circles on the floor with her finger to avoid having to look at anyone as she raised her hand. Enjolras nodded, told them where to find the posters and sat back down with Grantaire. He then burst into a fit of giggles right after Grantaire whispered something in his ear.

Jehan scooted closer to Musichetta, clearing his throat to get her attention. She didn’t look up. He pushed her shoulder with his own playfully and she looked up with a scowl.

“What?” Musichetta asked with a sour look.

“I want to know why you and Joly and Bossuet aren’t sitting together.” Jehan was usually direct when it came to his friends drama, unless he were writing a poem about it, in which case he generalized generalized generalized.

“Nothing's going on.” Musichetta looked back down and played with her fingers.

“Obviously something is. Just tell me.”  Jehan persisted.

“I’m not talking about it here.” Musichetta shook her head.

“Come on then.” Jehan pulled her up and out the door, leaving everyone in the tension filled library.

 

They walked for a long time, at one point it occurred to Musichetta that the school didn't even have the square footage for them to walk so far. Finally they ended up in a rather large closet in the English hallway. Jehan had a key for some reason and got them in, finding a well hidden ladder in the back wall of the closet and inviting Musichetta up. She followed him up the hatch leading to the roof with a small greenhouse sitting a few feet away.

"I got the biology teachers to let me come up here and take care of the place." Jehan used another key and lead her inside. "I don't know what they're going to do when I'm gone."

"Jehan, don't you think this is a little... High School Musical?" Musichetta couldn't keep the smile off her face. Because this was High School Musical. Exactly High School Musical. Only her and Jehan weren’t in love. And they weren't trying out for a musical.

"It is, that's what I love about it." Jehan set his stuff on the table among a cluster of tomato plants. Musichetta followed suit and they found themselves seated comfortably on a bench against a wall.

"So tell me." Jehan said, getting right to the point. "What's up?"

When Musichetta stayed silent he insisted again. "You said you didn't want to talk about it back there, so let's just talk about it here. Just you and me. Mono y mono."

"Your Spanish is dreadful." Musichetta laughed weakly. "I dunno, I just don't feel... I don't know."

"Are they excluding you?"

"No! Well, not on purpose. I mean, they were best friends long before I even joined the friend group, it's expected that they're closer to each other than I am to them."

"'Chetta, you are so wrong. Those two pine after you. They'd do anything for you, no questions asked. Bossuet is just as good a friend with you as he is with Joly, so don't count yourself out yet." -her shoulders were slumping with every word- "Unless there's something else?"

Musichetta nodded and took a deep breath. "I've never been this deep in a friendship before. The whole group is like my usual relationships, general and easily broken up. But those two... They're different than anything else. They're people that I'd be afraid to walk away from and that's weird for me."

Jehan sighed. "You're used to moving around and not getting close, so now that you're getting close, you don't know what to do. Is that right?"

Musichetta nodded. She had built up the ability to smile genuinely while sailing away from someone she would never have the chance to talk to again. She made just a rough sketch of a relationship and then tore it up when she left, leaving the pieces with other people. But now she wanted to finish the drawing. She wanted to stay and live with her friends forever and go with them through everything. It was weird to her.

"Just do what you want to do." Jehan crossed his legs and say sideways on the bench to look at her. "Your instincts say 'run' but your heart wants to stay and make friends. Maybe even a boyfriend?"

They both started giggling and Musichetta was glad for the change of subject.

"I don't know." She shook her head.

"Oh come on, there's two of them, you have to at least be a little interested in one."

"It wouldn't feel right, only liking one and not the other. I dunno, it would be weird, we're better as friends."

Jehan smiled gently, an odd twinkle in his eye. “I’m so good at reading people. You like one of them. Don’t deny it, you do. I won’t ask which one. All I ask is that you keep being friends with them because they look like two sad little gay babies and it’s bummin’ me out.”

Musichetta smiled and leaned against his shoulder. She made an affirmative noise and relaxed with a smile on her face.

“By the way.” Jehan spoke up after a few moments of silently enjoying each other’s company. “Do you know just what the fuck is going on with Enjolras and Grantaire?”

Musichetta laughed for a long time, leaving him with only an answer of “They’re doing just fine.”

 

* * *

 

Bossuet had watched Musichetta and Jehan leave the meeting early. He tried not to feel a little jealous that she was talking to Jehan but not him or Joly. Even if he was able to look at Joly with out his stomach clenching up, he still wanted Musichetta to at least talk to one of _them_.

He glanced over at Eponine and debated asking her about Combeferre, since they seemed to be talking about as much as him, Joly and Musichetta. Although, those two were different because they had seemed like they were going to start dating and him and his friends were just friends...ish. Apart from his kissing Joly. Multiple times. Bossuet shook his head and opened his mouth.

"So, what's going on with you and 'ferre?"

Eponine jumped a bit, not expecting the break in silence. She thought about what to say for a while then sighed.

"We got into a fight."

"About?"

"Marius. Me. Him. There was some things said that I regret and resent. I don't know how he feels."

"What did he say?" Bossuet angled himself so that their conversation was more private.

"He said he thought I was smarter than to still be following Marius around."

Bossuet made a face of pain at the remark and Eponine nodded.

"I know. But then I... I insulted this group. I said it was useless to try and change anything and then I left."

"Sounds like something Grantaire would say." Bossuet smiled, trying to make her feel better.

"Not really, have you seen him?" She gave him a look that said it didn’t make her feel better. They both glanced over at the happy couple snuggling into each other.

"Ok you got me, but are you sure you and Combeferre can't make up at all?" Bossuet was trying his best to keep his voice down, but he was a bass and could absolutely never be completely quiet.

Eponine crossed her arms and turned defensive. "What about you? You sit here asking me to get my relationship moving and yet you and your... Thing, isn't quite working out. Why don't you make up with Musichetta? Or Joly? Because I know there's something up between you two."

Bossuet frowned deeply and lowered his head a little. "That's none of your business."

"Oh yeah? And what makes my issues yours?"

Bossuet eyed her for a few seconds then shrugged. "Ok I guess it is your business but right now we're talking about you and Combeferre. Why don't you just go to his house tonight and have a non-flighty talk."

Eponine pursed her lips, trying to decide if she could really do that. She also wanted something out of this deal, but it had to be about equal to her end of the deal.

"Ok." She said. "As long as you talk to Joly."

Bossuet went red and shook his head. "I'll talk to Musichetta, but Joly is bigger than this. It wouldn’t be a fair trade."

"Fine. Deal?"

"Deal."

 


	10. Are we like, a Thing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine keeps her promise to Bossuet and heads to Combeferre's house.

Eponine did go to Combeferre's house. But not until after it was dark and she was hoping he was asleep like some kind of anal, dorky, hibernating, bear. She smiled to herself thinking about how he slept. She was slightly worried about the time, but didn't worry too much considering they had some weird county holiday the next day, which meant no school. Three day weekends gave her life, and she's pretty sure a number of her friends shared that sentiment.

It was after nine by the time she knocked on the big red door of his house. Every second that passed after that knock made her doubt her decision to come over in the first place. She started thinking about how she had messed up this whole thing they had going by bringing up Marius. She thought about how she had insulted their club. By the time the door lock clicked to slide open, she could feel tears welling her eyes over how much she didn't want to lose her relationship with Combeferre.

He looked a little confused by her being there, and even choked out "'ponine?" Before she barreled into him with her tears darkening his tee shirt.

"I'm so sorry." She cried, sniffling so snot wouldn't get on his shirt. "I shouldn't have said that about you or the cause or any of that. Please forgive me."

"Eponine." Combeferre rested his hand on her head and smiled warmly. "We should talk, can you stop crying so we can do that?"

She nodded and he closed the door. They didn't move from the doormat, they just sat down, cross legged and facing each other.

Combeferre spoke first, thinking to give Eponine time to compose herself.

"I'm sorry I said that about you. It was rude and just plain wrong. You're a smart girl, and emotions aren't a part of that, I shouldn't have said that."

Eponine wiped her cheeks with her sleeve and nodded. "I'm sorry too."

"You already apologized." Combeferre smiled and they both laughed briefly, feeling the tension starting to break. "It got lonely here with out you around to fake needing tutoring. Don't make that face, I know you were faking. But I think you should come over just to hang out. Or at least give me another person in the house to talk to so I'm not always alone."

"What about your parents?" Eponine hadn't noticed before, but Combeferre's house never had anyone else's car except for his in front of it. She hadn't noticed that she'd never seen his parents when she'd come over, in fact he'd never even really talked about his family.

"They travel. They translate for some business guy while he's doing international business. And when they aren't doing that they also translate for politicians. Between them they know 8 languages. And with all that traveling, they're not ever really home."

Eponine leaned forward and took his hand.

"I've practically raised myself since I was twelve. I can cook and do house work and everything. Sometimes the solitude is nice, other times it's lonely. I feel like I'm going crazy in this big empty house. So I've tried to avoid being here as much as possible. But then you showed up and you filled the extra space. I didn't feel like I was going crazy in my solitude anymore because you were always in contact, and usually here. Then we stopped talking and it started going back. Back to that lonely."

Eponine rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. "I won't let you be lonely again."

They got closer, both knowing what was going to happen and accepting it as their lips touched gently but sincerely.

"As long as I can help it, you'll never be lonely again."

They kissed again, this time tangling their limbs together, arms around necks, legs intertwined. All with a simple kiss.

They stayed there next to the door for a longtime, stuck to one another, the occasional kiss or snuggle but otherwise very little movement. Just the two of them enjoying being close to the other.

Eventually Combeferre pressed a kiss to Eponine's hair and muttered into her ear.

"We can't stay here forever, as much as I would love to. And you should probably be getting home."

Eponine jerked at the insinuation that she go home, a whine erupting from her throat and her fingers tightening on his shirt.

"Ferre, don't make me leave."

Combeferre smoothed her hair. "What will your parents think?"

Eponine sighed and rested her cheek on his shoulder, watching the hardwood floor behind him.

"You told me about your parents. Now I'm going to tell you about mine." She spoke into his skin, and he couldn't help but think about how lovely it felt to have her close enough to feel her breath.

"My parents are the embodiment of evil. My father is the leader of this gang that he makes all his money from. And he's forced me into the family business a few times. I'm rather resistant to his command since I can see through his bullshit, but my younger sister isn't so independent. She does what ever he tells her to, and sometimes he makes me do jobs by threatening to make her do it instead."

Combeferre didn't change, he was like an anchor. Something solid and holding still for her to hold onto.

"What about your mother?" He asked with the most hesitant tone.

"She runs along with it, when she's even around. Most of the time she's away from the house, cheating on my dad, stealing things, or getting piss drunk. Sometimes it's all three."

Combeferre nodded in conformation that he was listening, then he gave her a tight squeeze.

"Thank you for sharing with me."  He was still using the hesitant voice as before. "You can stay for the night, then...well, we'll see."

Eponine smiled against his shirt before lifting her head and kissing him happily. "Thank you." She pulled far enough away to look him in they eyes as she spoke, but then she closed the distance again and continued the kiss, making it deeper this time. They returned to their enjoyed silence.

After Combeferre made the suggestion that his ass was hurting from the ground, he and Eponine moved upstairs. He set her up in one of their numorous guest rooms and gave her one of his old tee shirts and pajama bottoms to wear to bed. She was drowning in them, but she told him she was happy with it. He gave her a new toothbrush and some travel sized toothpaste, then made sure she was comfortable with everything before heading to his own room.

It wasn't long before she showed up in his doorway, shirt going to her knees, sleeves covering her hands and an uncomfortable bunching at the bottom of the pants. Combeferre hadn't gone to bed, instead he was on his computer, reading through one of Enjolras's speeches. Eponine stood leaning against the door frame until he noticed her and finally looked away from his computer screen.

"You're still up?" He smirked at her through his glasses and she felt like melting.

"I was just thinking... Are we- like are we... A thing now? Like official official?" Eponine tried to hide her blush but she couldn't.

"I could send out an engagement announcement, if that's the official you're looking for." Combeferre spoke calmly and critically but as he turned back to his speech, he coudn't help but smile.

"You're such a dork." Eponine walked over and rested her arms on the back of his chair and her chin on his shoulder. "But I like that."

"It seems to be a trait you look for in guys." He fixed the wording of a sentence on the monitor.

"Are you saying you're my type?" Eponine exclaimed, chuckling a little.

"My dear," Combeferre finished the speech and spun around to face her. "That is exactly what I'm saying."

Eponine, still bent to his level, smiled and kissed his nose. "Well I like my type."

She stood and got into his bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin.

"What are you doing?" Combeferre said, shaking his head.

"Going to bed. You got a fuckin' problem with that?" She pulled the blankets further to cover her cheeky smile.

Combeferre shook his head and climbed in next to her, wrapping an arm around her. After that, neither found it all that hard to sleep.

 


	11. Happiness and Butterflies and 'Friendship'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joly is feelin some sorta way

Just as Eponine kept her promise, Bossuet kept his. The day after Eponine's visit, he went over to Musichetta's house. Because it was only a day off for the students, her parents still had to go into the university they worked at, telling her not to open the door for anyone.

When Bossuet rang the doorbell, he saw Musichetta peak through the window to see who it was, then she called through the door. "I'm not supposed to open the door for anyone."

Bossuet sighed and called back. "Am I really just anyone? Please let me in."

The door clicked open and Musichetta and him. They watched each other for a solid minute before she finally invited him in. He took a step through the doorway, thanking her, and waited right behind her. She closed the door and turned around, jumping at how close he was. They both tried to laugh it off but it just felt too awkward.

"Look, Bossuet," Musichetta mumbled her words but was still clear enough for him to understand. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I was being stupid, I really do want to be friends with you. See, I'm so used to leaving people behind that I don't usually get so attached to people, then you two came and everything changed and I really, really like you guys."

Bossuet couldn't help the smile and he pulled her into a tight hug. He'd been told that he gave the best hugs, and he wanted this hug to have a little more. Then he realized that something, or someone, was missing.

He let go of Musichetta and held her at arms length by the shoulders.

"I kissed Joly. Or he kissed me. Either way we kissed." Bossuet babbled. He wasn't sure where he was going with this but he figured it couldn't hurt to keep her in the loop.

"Ok." Musichetta said, grabbing his hands from her shoulders. "We can handle this. Haven't you kissed before? Wasn't awkward and then you guys just went back to normal after a few days?"

Bossuet sighed. "Yeah, but this time was different, last time it was a stupid game, and this time... It was just different."

"Alright, we'll talk to Joly and see what's up, just don't freak out about this, alright?" Musichetta put her hand on his cheek in a soothing gesture then wrapped her arms around him again.

* * *

meanwhile, Joly was only a few blocks away, laying on his back in Irma's bed with his head tipped over the edge.  

"So tell me again, what happened?" He watched Irma put her books back in order, she was rather controlling about how they were organized.

"He told me he didn't want a relationship. Said he looked up the term aromantic online and realized that it was him. He said that you gave him the idea. What did you say to him?"

Joly sat up and turned around to face her. "He and Courf were fighting over who you liked more, so I told them that you didn't like relationships, which you don't, and that you weren't going to chose between them because there wasn't really a choice that needed to be made."

"Did you also say I would kick their asses?" Irma raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes. So what is the problem that was so important for us to talk in person?"

"I think he's hot." Irma shrugged, ignoring his question for now. "I don't know, I mean, if we’re both on the same page sexuality and relationship wise wouldn't it work out?"

"You don't know Bahorel like I do. He can get kind of clingy."

"But you guys are just friends." Irma pointed out, the wheels in her head already turning and drawing every conclusion possible.

"Yeah so?"

"Joly, you remember when I told you I was aro?" Irma sat next to him on the bed, laying back so her legs hung off lazily.

"Yeah."

"Did I or did I not say that I wanted a guy who would just treat me like his friend?"

"You did."

"And if Bahorel's just a clingy guy and he still treats me as just a friend who sometimes sleeps with him, I'm ok with that."

Joly's eye brows scrunched and he laid back next to her. He didn’t quite understand it, but it was her life and her sexuality, all he could do was tell her what he knew.

"I'm not following."

Irma smiled devilishly. "I want to have sex with Bahorel."

She turned her head to see Joly blush and cover his involuntary smile and roll away. He got so embarrassed when she said things so bluntly like that and it was really funny to see him overreact. Joly rolled off the bed and got up, looking over the new books she'd added to the bookshelf.

"What about you and Bossuet?" Irma inquired, leaning up on her elbows. Joly didn't look back, but his shoulders dropped.

"I fucked it up." He then continued because it was no use alluding to it. "I kissed him. It just felt... weird. Like we were missing something. He wanted me to stay, but I couldn't. Now were not talking."

"What is that thing that you were missing?" Irma had busied herself making a rubber band ball.

"I don't know, but it felt huge. Like there was this empty gap. Of course it's felt kind of like that since the party the other night."

"Wait, the party itself or the days after?" Irma looked up from her rubber bands.

"I guess the days after. It was probably because Musichetta hasn't been talking to us for some reason. Maybe that’s why it felt so wrong, because with all the stuff going on with her we really shouldn’t be starting stuff. Or maybe we just shouldn’t change things and try to get Musichetta back. As a friend." Joly used the last sentence as a warning, knowing exactly where Irma's mind was headed.

"Oh but Joly, I'm just a friend. Bossuet is "just a friend" and I'm going to throw out there that Musichetta"-then under her breath-"who you still haven’t introduced me to."-then aloud-" is also "just a friend". Right?"

"No."

"Yes."

No."

"Yes."

"No"

"You're in love and it's adorable. Yes."

Joly sighed and gave up. Then he shook his head. "What do I do?"

At that moment, his phone buzzed with a text. It was in his group chat with Musichetta and Bossuet. A chat which hadn't been used for a long time compared to the ritualistic use of it before.

B- I'm with Chetta, we need to talk.

Joly felt his face fill with blood, knowing Irma was reading over his shoulder and preparing to give him advice.

J- what about?

"You should ask him if it's about sex." Irma said softly into his ear. Joly swatted at her like a debutante on a hot southern day.

B- our friendship, and what's been going on with her.

J- omw.

Irma grabbed his coat for him and saw him out, giving him a wink and a suggestive smile.

Joly got to Bossuet's house 15 minutes later, finding out from his mom that he was actually at Musichetta's. He texted them telling them where he was and they responded by showing up at Bossuet's house.

Bossuet ushered them both up to his room, giving a quick wave to his mom as they walked up the stairs.

Joly sat on the bed with his hands in his lap and his knees pressed together politely. Musichetta leaned against the wall as Bossuet walked in and she kicked the door closed when they were all inside.

"Me and ‘Chetta have talked it over and we both really want to keep our friend thing going." Bossuet smiled back at Musichetta. "I mean, we've all been kind of down lately and I think we're all sick of it so here we are. I say we put it all behind us, bad and good, and start fresh. How about it?"

Joly knew he wouldn't have much time to respond and still have it mean the same thing, but he did let himself think about it for a little while. He realized that he liked Bossuet, but also there was something wrong with liking him. Not wrong in the conservative politician sense, but wrong in the "we shouldn't be doing this right at this moment" sense. The “there’s something weird going on here and not in a sexy way” sense. But he would rather be friends and only friends than be nothing at all.

Eventually he smiled at them both and nodded. Bossuet pulled him up into a hug, forgetting for a moment that it made Joly nervous. Which was ok because Joly forgot to be nervous. He was being held tight by his crush and the best friend he'd ever had, nothing would damper the feeling, not even his own fears.

Suddenly he felt another arm on his back. He pulled his head away from Bossuet's shoulder to see Musichetta joining in on the hug.

And just like that something clicked.

That feeling of hesitation with Bossuet was gone and Joly wanted to blurt out his confession of love. But he reminded himself that they were all just friends, and that feeling was just warm fuzzy friendship. Nothing else. Nope. Just friends.

"I'm sorry I've been so MIA." Musichetta smiled at him. "I was just feeling conflicted, but I’m over it."

She squeezed a little tighter and then they let go, Joly still feeling that everything was filled with happiness and butterflies and ‘friendship’.

"Promise we'll be friends forever?" Bossuet raised his eyebrows at both of them, ignoring how cheesy it sounded. Musichetta nodded without any delay, but Joly was hesitant. Friends was not what he wanted with Bossuet, that was for sure, but now was not the time. Not with their history. In the end he nodded and they hung out for an hour or so after that before Joly made up an excuse to leave. Then it was just Musichetta and Bossuet, hanging out like punky teenagers.

Musichetta rolled over on the bed and looked up at Bossuet who was reading a comic book at the head of his bed.

"Did you notice how Joly hesitated?" She asked, in an almost casual tone.

"What?" Bossuet put the comic away in his nightstand and faced her.

"When you said we'd be friends forever. He hesitated."

"You mean he doesn't want to be friends forever?" Bossuet laughed.

"No I mean he doesn't want to be just friends. He likes you."

Bossuet couldn't suppress his blush, but he could shake his head. "He could like you. Or neither of us. It could mean nothing."

"Or it could mean everything..." Musichetta wiggled her eyebrows.

"Leave it, it's not a big deal." Bossuet folded his arms defensively.

"Well, ok. Change of subject: who do you like?"

"I like a lot of people."

Musichetta rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

Bossuet frowned and shook his head. "I'm not telling you." ~~  
~~

This only seemed to make Musichetta more interested. She moved so she was sitting closer to him, leaning in so her face was even closer. From here she could see every fleck in his eye. She'd never been close enough to anyone to really notice those small details, it was kind of like seeing an entirely different person.

"I'm still not telling you, no matter how close you get to my face." Bossuet's eyes crinkled into a smile and Musichetta sighed.

"Whatever." She climbed off the bed and grabbed her jacket. “it’s getting late."

As she left she stopped to have a cookie with Bossuet's mothers.

"We're so glad to see him finding such good friends." His mom said. Something about the last word insinuated that there was something more to be said.

Musichetta nodded, covering her cookie filled mouth. "Yeah, he's really great, and I'm really glad to have him as a friend."

The couple looked at each other with an odd smile.

“He’s never had such pretty friends before either.” The other woman added winking. “We might have to set new rules on that bedroom door of his.”

Musichetta felt her face contort into an expression of confusion and skepticism. She hastily thanked them for the cookies and left. 


End file.
